Being Hunted

...Preface...

The wind whistled through the trees, leaves crunched under the footsteps of a stranger walking by, snow started falling lightly. Winter was finally here. Oscar trudged his way through the leaves on the path burying his thoughts deeper and deeper. How could he do it? He wasn't like everyone else. He had to follow his own rules not the team, not his managment, not even his friends.

Running. Running for her life. Running away. Away from him. Suspicions ran high. Nothing could stop it.

Oscars life was as normal as he wanted it to be. He got on well with pretty much anyone, they all found him pleasant but he knew about what they said about him behind his back. That he was weird and creepy. He never told anyone his details or his past. Oscar would rather lock his past away in boxes and store them in the back of his brain, never opening them. Not again, not after last time.

The wind blew hard. Oscar wrapped his coat tighter around him securing a couple of more gusts. Head down he started to walk faster desperate to get home.

Panting hard, she relaxed. Feeling safe behind a pillar. Footsteps drew closer, she ran. Never looking back.

Oscar's flat was small and wasn't used very often. The walls were painted a dark brownish colour, the floor was wooded and boards were sticking up all over the place. There were only a couple of rooms. A bedroom consisting of a bed and a chest of drawers; a small larder and a room which was used for everything else. That room was the scariest. It was dark and empty. A couple of hooks were screwed into the walls. This is where he put his photographs. Who to chase and who not to. Warnings and instructions, nothing new. The basics. Chase, catch, kill.

Tired from running she came to a halt. A building stood in front of her. Perfect. A new identity.

"What's your name miss?" she spun around. Like second nature she answered "Claire. Claire Sherwood" A lie.

"How old are you Claire?"

"21." Another lie.

Stepping closer the silouette asked "and why are you here? why running?"

Her heart rate quickened. Her breath became deeper. Another step.

"I think you know why" she gathered up her things turned around and walked into the building.

...Chapter One...

Inside the building was cold. Dust had gathered on the desks and the windows was saturated with fog. No one could deny that the place looked like it was looked after. Rosie rang the bell on the desk in front of her. A small lady popped up from behind the counter. She was wearing a suit and moon-shaped glasses. Her greyish hair was tied neatly in a bun in the centre of her head. Rosie asked for an identity card, a passport and a driving license. Filling out the forms her pen hovered over the personal details. Carefully she wrote 'Claire Sherwood. 21. Teasel House, Bedforshire.' A snapshot of her surpirsed face was placed on the I.D and Rosie, head high, walked out of the building into the nipping frost once more.